


Fëanor and the Forging of Sampo

by elennalore



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack Crossover, Forging of Sampo, Fëanor and Ilmarinen build Sampo together, Gen, Kalevala, Middle Earth, Nonbinary Character, World Travel, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elennalore/pseuds/elennalore
Summary: The story of Sampo, but make it Silmarillion.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Fëanor and the Forging of Sampo

**Author's Note:**

> [Sampo](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sampo) is a magical object, a cornucopia of sorts, that appears in Finnish-Karelian Mythology and in Kalevala.  
> In Kalevala, Ilmarinen is the great smith, and Louhi an evil witch that lives in the northern fortress. Here, Louhi is a nonbinary character who oddly resembles Mairon.  
> This story was just a silly idea that wanted to be written.

On his travels around the world, Fëanor meets a strange smith.

He is one of the best, but he doesn’t know of Aulë. Instead, he claims to have forged the Ilmen itself; that’s why he’s called Ilmarinen. He says he can forge anything. For Fëanor, it sounds too much like an invite for a competition. If Ilmarinen can forge anything, Fëanor boldly announces that he will be better than that: he can forge everything.

And so they start. At Ilmarinen’s forge, during the daytime, Ilmarinen works. He bashes the iron and sings all day. His songs are different from what the Valar are singing, but Fëanor recognizes the power in them nevertheless. During the night-time, Ilmarinen rests and sleeps under the starlit sky. Then Fëanor gets the forge for himself.

He sees the power in Ilmarinen’s work; but there are so many ways he can make it better – yes, perfect even. He puts something extra here and there; little chains and wheels and oiled parts that move like magic when the lever is pulled. Too soon it’s dawn again, and Ilmarinen wants his forge back for himself. Fëanor doesn’t tell him about the alterations. Let the smith find out about them himself.

Finally, Ilmarinen declares his work finished. It’s a huge machine, mighty and awe-inspiring. Fëanor is not envious; it’s as much as his work as Ilmarinen’s. Still, it amuses him to play oblivious.

“What is it?” he asks the smith, his head tilted to one side as he admires the beauty of the object.

“It’s a machine that makes gold. The one who owns it will be the richest person in the world. I name it Sampo.” Ilmarinen gives Fëanor a sharp look. “Where’s your work? I don’t see it. It can hardly be better than this one.”

“Oh,” Fëanor says in an innocent voice. “You’re looking at it. Your Sampo, as you call it, is not just for making gold. Try pulling that lever over there.”

Ilmarinen seems to notice just now that his iron machine has many levers and wheels he hasn’t put there. “What are these all for?” But he’s an inventor like Fëanor, and inventors are always curious, so he pulls the lever. Instantly, salt runs out from the machine.

“That’s wonderful!” Ilmarinen admits. “Did you put salt inside?”

“I didn’t have to. I just put there an idea of salt. It comes true when you pull the lever.”

Ilmarinen’s eyes are widened. “That’s... really clever. “What other ideas have you put there?”

“Well, anything I could imagine of. Grain, food, horses, fabric, jewels... Whatever an elf could need. I hope I have remembered to think of everything.”

Ilmarinen is speechless. “It’s a machine of plenty! Even better than my original idea. My tribe will love this. How can I thank you enough... Fëanor, was it?”

Fëanor starts to tell Ilmarinen that as he did most of the work himself, the machine should be taken back to Valinor, where his tribe, the Noldor, lives. It will be a long journey, for he isn’t keen to walk the icy path again; once was definitely enough. But he has hardly opened his mouth to ask if Ilmarinen knows anyone who owns a ship when they are attacked by hideous beings of shadow and flame.

“Oh no!” Ilmarinen shouts, taking cover behind one of the big stones in front of his forge. “It’s the evil witch Louhi and their fiery beasts!”

Fëanor has never heard about Louhi, but as the wondrous being steps ahead, he knows that he’s looking at a Maia of Melkor. Even though the Valar have chained Melkor in Mandos, some of his servants are still said to live in Middle-earth. This beautiful creature must be one of them.

“Hello darlings,” the evil Maia says, grinning like only the very evil beings can. Fëanor sees their mouth is full of needle-sharp teeth. “I’m the admirable Louhi, ruler of this land. Why, didn’t Ilmarinen tell you that everything he makes in his pitiful forge will belong to me? And this Sampo, well, it’s just what I have been looking for to feed my slaves and troops in my northern fortress. What a co-incidence!”

The witch and their fiery warriors start to carry Sampo away. Ilmarinen and Fëanor look at each other. They are only two smiths; what can they do against a flock of supernatural beings? Soon, Louhi and their troops have vanished.

“What if we attacked their fortress in the north and tried to get it back?” Ilmarinen suggests, but he doesn’t manage to rouse Fëanor to action. “The fortress of iron, full of fiery beings? I’m not interested. I’m not suicidal, I want to have a family one day. Let them keep it; I’ll invent something else.”

He leaves Ilmarinen with his tribe; they are already discussing about a quest to get Sampo back. Thankfully, one of them lends Fëanor a proper ship to sail back west. The eternal night has started to feel dull. He wants to see the light of the Two Trees once more. It’s too bad that he can’t carry their light with him as he travels around the world.

Perhaps he can make a vessel that carries their light?


End file.
